Deep Roots Are Not Reached By The Frost
by ForestOfTheFae
Summary: Elrond and Celebrían live peacefully in Imladris and raise their children with the help of their trusty advisors. When one of the elves under Glorfindel's command is slain brutally on a patrol, the balrog slayer is left responsible for the elf's wife and unborn child. Of course, he can't do it alone. Imladrian adventures await. Mildly AU. Two OCs. Mostly fluff and angst, for now.
1. Of Sunlit Garden Afternoons

**Author's Note:**

**This story will be told in brief snippets. Chapters will be uploaded and ordered chronologically. Later chapters might be earlier in the story-line and as such, would be placed in the correct spot. What was chapter one could later become three or five, depending on where these bits come in. I will try to mention this in the notes each time.**

**This story does contain OCs! Read at your own risk. It also may include themes in later chapters which others may find unsettling.**

**Also, some clarification: I'm not going to follow Tolkien's rules about elven marriage and life cycles perfectly. It does not suit the story that I plan to tell. As I stated clearly in the description, this is an alternate universe fanfiction. I will try to stick to the canon material as much as possible, but I will deviate when I need to and as I need to.**

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><p>Copper curls glint in the sunlight as the elfling toddles toward him, arms outstretched as she calls, "Atto! Atto!" Her smile is infectious and he feels one of his own stretch across his features as he crouches to meet her. "To me, Elia! To Atto!"<p>

The toddler moves forward unsteadily, her elder sister always a step behind her to catch her should she fall. In a few seconds she has reached her golden-haired _atar, _and he swings her up easily, twirling her around in the air as she giggles. He brings her back down and settles her against his hip, his armor replaced by easy, everyday garb.

"You did so well, Elia! Did you walk for Atto?" he asks, easily stooping to pick up a jealous Arwen with his other arm. The child's grey eyes are filled with life as her want for attention is satisfied. Elia grins and grab a handful of his golden mane, answering his earlier question with an excited nod of her head.

"I did it, Atto! May I do it again?" she asks, and her language is perfect. Glorfindel wrinkles his nose, missing the innocence of her fumbling, childish speech when she was first beginning to learn. Erestor had ensured that all of their children were well-taught in the languages of Middle-Earth, and Elia had quickly caught on, though these languages did not include Quenyan. That tongue, it seemed, was his to teach her, as he spoke it most fluently among the Imladrian elves. And teach it to her he did, though at first it was a difficult task. She seemed to take to it easily enough though, her fluency in Sindarin and the Common Tongue enough to see her through a third language.

"Of course you may," he tells her, rewarding her with a gentle smile and a kiss on the forehead. Arwen receives the same, and then he sets them both gently on the ground. Arwen's fingers reluctantly release the linen of his tunic. "Karin!" he calls to the eldest of the sisters, and she quickly returns from wherever her mind had been wandering.

"Yes, Atto?" she asks, her grey eyes almost blue in the late summer sun. A worn leather tome is held by pale, elegant fingers and swiftly hidden in the folds of her dress, but not quickly enough to evade the eyes of the Lord of the House of the Golden Flower.

Glorfindel opens his mouth to answer her, but is cut off by an exclamation from Elia. "Muinthel! Here I come!"

Karin's smile is gentle and warm as she stoops to hold her arms out to the elfling, book forgotten in her hand. "Oh, that's right! Come here, thêl vîw."

Elia's walking is gaining more confidence every day, but Glorfindel still finds himself shadowing her every step. The one-and-a-half-year old is just beginning to walk, and while he had worried that she was a late bloomer because all of her _siblings_ had been walking when they were a year old, Celebrian and Elrond had repeatedly assured him that it would come in due time, and so it had. Still, the child sometimes had mishaps, and it would seem that now was one of those times. Elia's tiny feet somehow fumble in the process of right-left-right-left, and before he or Arwen can even react, she has fallen into the soft earth of Celebrian's garden.

Glorfindel freezes, as the next moment will be the deciding factor on how the rest of the afternoon plays out. One second, then two, and then several pass, and no piercing wail erupts from the tiny elfling. Karin moves before they do, and she swiftly picks the elfling up, pulling her into her arms and completely ignoring the earth that crumbled off of the child and onto her dress.

"Ah, you fell! Thêl vîw, you're alright. A big, strong elfling like you couldn't be hurt by a little fall, could she?" she asks, looking very seriously into the wide eyes of the younger elleth. Eyelashes flutter as a lower lip juts out, trembling, but at Karin's words, the child instantly brightens.

"No, Muinthel! I'm gonna be big and strong like Atto someday, and fight a million Orcs, and slay _two _balrogs!"

_'Valar, please don't let her ever encounter one of those demons,' _Glorfindel thinks immediately, a jolt of fear running through his veins at the thought of his daughter facing down one of the creatures.

"Of course you are!" Karin beams, brushing the loose soil off of the toddler as she adjusts her grip on the squirming child. "You'll be prettier than Naneth, a better healer than Adar, wiser than Ada, and stronger than even Atto." she tells her, touching Elia's button nose with the tip of her finger.

The toddler lights up with happiness, fall forgotten as she tries to grasp Karin's finger in her tiny hands. Relieved, Glorfindel straightens and dares a glance at Arwen. The child looks relieved and is rather distracted by her sisters' interaction, so he takes the chance for mischief and sweeps her off of the ground, whirling her around just as he had with Elia. Her giggles are instantaneous and bell-like, and he draws the beautiful young half-elf in to press a kiss to her forehead as he returns his attention to the other two.

"Alright, I think that's more than enough play for today. Let us go inside and see if Edenel has something nice cooked for our dinner, and perhaps Erestor-Ada will read to you if he has finished his paperwork." Glorfindel knows that even Karin enjoys the tales from beyond the Greenwood that Elrond reads to them, and it is as persuasive a measure as any. All three of the ellyth are instantly eager and ready to go, all thoughts of staying outside evaporated with the temptation of stories and food.

The four make quite a scene when they enter The Last Homely House: Lady Karin with Arwen close by her side, hand tucked into hers and smile bright as they watch their Atto duck under the door-frame, the toddler on his shoulders giggling and calling, "Faster, Atto, faster!"


	2. Of Terrors of the Night

The girl sleeps peacefully, her pale skin glowing white in the gloom of the dark room. She sighs softly into the pillow and a ringlet stirs, but falls back into place without further disruption. A smile flits across the male's visage. The small form of the elfling is almost completely concealed from the view of any who enter by the mountain of covers, but he can see her clearly from where he sits at his desk. His daughter had stirred before he had arrived but had not woken, dried tear tracks on her freckled cheeks from another nightmare. After several minutes of watching her sleep, he had gone to run a bath and was now waiting for it to fill.

This trip had been the first time that his lord's twin sons had acted as ambassadors for Imladris, and so they had sent them to a place where, if they managed some sort of mischief, they would not insult their host – another elven realm. Lothloríen would have been preferable, but they needed the fine silks made from the threads of Greenwood's massive spiders. And so Glorfindel had been given the task of guarding Elrohir and Elladan, and was to be forced to leave the tiny elfling whom he so adored. She had been in good hands with Erestor, Celebrían, and Elrond, and yet Glorfindel had worried for her. Despite the fact that she had been raised with equal love from each of the four of them, she still came to her golden-haired atar whenever she was afraid. Without him, he had felt sure that she would not know how to deal with her night terrors.

He had been reassured that this would not be the case, and so he had acquiesced to taking the twins to Greenwood the Great. After a month's absence and upon his return, Elrond had reported that the now-sleeping elfling had missed him terribly, and he had been quite eager to have her back in his arms. When he had gone to check in on her, she had not been in her bedroom. Assuming she was sleeping with her siblings or perhaps with Erestor, he had paid it no mind and had decided to see her the next morning. His surprise at finding her in his own bed had been quickly overrun by a wave of gentle affection.

Now he is bathed and dressed again, and he slides beneath the cool sheets with the grace of a predator. The tiny, restless female is gently pulled to his chest and she curls into him automatically, used to the easiness of sleeping with her atar. Truthfully, at ten years of age, she was growing too old to spend every night with her father. He had not the heart to force her to sleep on her own though, not with the constant night terrors that stalked through her dreams. She could not put into words what it was that hunted her through her dreams, but it terrified her to no end. He would not make her face them alone, not even after Elrond had strongly admonished him for spoiling her. He knows the terrors of the night well; there are still nights when he wakes in a cold sweat, a demon of fire and shadow casting him from the mountainside again and again in his sleep.

He presses a kiss to the brow of the female in his arms. Until such a time as she is ready to handle them on her own, he will hold her and comfort her through every nightmare. For now, she stills in his arms and breathes the scent of her atar in deeply, relaxing at last and dreaming peacefully. The next morning, he finds that he has slept easier than he has even once in the weeks since he has left, something about the clean scent of her soap allowing him to have dreamed peacefully.


End file.
